


Back Where We Started

by FrozenMemories



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories
Summary: What if Miller and Jackson had been part of the group who made it back to the ring?
Relationships: (background), Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre
Comments: 28
Kudos: 9
Collections: Mackson Secret Santa 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Snippets of what life on the ring could have been like, told from Miller and Jackson's perpectives.
> 
> Mackson Secret Santa prompt: Miller and Jackson interacting around other characters and their relationship being acknowledged by them. This got a little out of hand, I hope you don't mind. 
> 
> I tried to stick close to canon events but decided to leave Echo out of SpaceKru because I wanted an even number of characters and I didn't want Raven to be stuck on the ring with 4 other couples. I also made slight alterations to the timeline of the end of season 4 to make things work.

He watches in fascination as Raven bosses them around; her mind is ten steps ahead at all times and still she finds the right words to instruct everyone precisely on what they have to do and how.

Four hours until the deathwave hits. It’s a scary prospect he doesn’t dare to fully acknowledge yet. The threat has been looming above their heads, weighing each move and breath with anxiety and a sense of finality, affecting every thought and decision of the past few months. And still, it feels so unreal. There are many things he regrets, many things he can’t afford to think about right now, when his task is to gather as many medical supplies as he can and make preparations for five long years of life up on the remnants of their disassembled space station.

He can’t deny the thrill. The mixture of danger and excitement, the pure adrenaline of his survival instincts kicking in and making him run on the last of his reserves. He hasn’t slept in well over thirty hours.

He’s almost done raiding the lab’s medical bay, routinely sorting through medication and supplies. His fingers work fast but not without care, mentally calculating weight against value of each item. He’d hate to leave something behind that they might need later, but Raven made it abundantly clear how they can’t afford any additional baggage that isn’t strictly necessary.

As he stores the fully packed crate inside the rocket he allows himself a few moments to breathe and let the situation sink in: They’re about to leap off the earth in a vessel that was built a century ago, going back to what little remains of the place they used to call home. Chances are they’re taking off on a suicide mission but it’s the only alternative they have to being radiated and then burned to crisps and ashes in praimfaya.

“Excited?”

The hand on his shoulder seems to come out of nowhere and he starts, but Nate’s soft voice is strangely soothing. He turns and smiles.

“Terrified,” he admits, even though he can’t feel anything but warmth spreading through his chest at Nate’s answering smile.

It’s been precisely fourteen hours since they’ve shared their first kiss. Twelve since they decided not to leave Raven behind in the lab all by herself, even if it meant they were running out of time to make it back to the bunker in Polis. Nine since Raven’s eyes snapped open when Jackson shocked her heart. Everything past that is a blur of events. Clarke, Bellamy, Murphy, Emori. Monty and Harper. The rocket, Raven’s mad plan, Nate’s hand on the back of his head as they embraced.

“You and me, five years together in space,” Nate muses with a smirk that shouldn’t look so effortless, given their situation.

“Sign me up,” he returns without a second of hesitation.

“There will be enough time to flirt later, boys,” Raven interrupts their moment, “Miller, it’s your turn on the radio. Jackson, when you’re done with the medical supplies I need your hands over here.”


	2. Chapter 2

The tingling in the pit of his stomach reminds him of the feeling he experienced when he sat strapped into his seat in the drop ship. Several months have passed since then but it already feels like a lifetime ago. He finds it hard to fathom they’re about to leap back up into space.

Raven radiates a reassuring amount of confidence and Murphy is taking the edge off their anxiety with his casual sarcasm. He’s one part grateful and two parts resentful of the guy. Of all the people to go on this adventure with he would have never voluntarily picked Murphy. But now it looks like he’ll be stuck with him and Miller thinks himself smart enough to swallow his thoughts on the matter.

And anyway, there are bigger problems at hand. The absence of one particular member of their group weighs heavy on all of their minds:

Clarke.

She hasn’t returned from her errand yet, and as far as Raven’s readings show, she also hasn’t succeeded in powering up the Ark’s systems, which is something they can’t afford to get hung up on. She’ll get it done, Raven resolves, and keeps going with her final system check.

The countdown is running down mercilessly. They can’t wait any longer.

Bellamy is facing away from him but Miller doesn’t have to see his expression to know his heart is breaking. He takes a second to reflect on his own feelings toward Clarke. He hasn’t always seen eye to eye with her but he’s always respected her leadership. And now, once again, Clarke is selflessly doing what needs to be done, risking her own life so the rest of them have a chance to make it to the Ark in time. The thought is hard to digest and Miller pushes down the inner voice asking if he’s worth that kind of a sacrifice.

Not that it matters. Clarke is out there and the rocket is about launch without her.

He watches Raven’s expert fingers snapping at levers and pushing buttons, listens to her steady commentary on what she’s doing even if the words are way above his level of comprehension. The engine hisses and rumbles and he briefly closes his eyes, willing away the tears that are threatening to make an appearance on his face. He pushes thoughts of his dad and their last conversation aside and wills himself to think positively: They’re going to make it. They will survive, just as his dad is going to survive in the bunker, they’re going to meet again, just like they promised each other a few hours ago.

Jackson’s hand grabs his and he’s immensely grateful for the reassuring touch, even through two thick layers of radiation suit gloves.

He opens his eyes and casts a glance around their little group, gaze lingering for a moment on Harper, who gives him a knowing smile, before he turns sideways to look at Jackson, who is visibly terrified beneath the fragile mask of his feigned grin.

The rocket rumbles and its vibrations thrum through him as they take off with a sudden bolt.


	3. Chapter 3

Jackson fumbles back to consciousness to the heavy weight of a body slumped across his legs and the pull of hands at the back of his suit.

Nate’s dragging him toward the ventilation grid, urging him to face the cool stream of air.

He takes deep, gasping breaths until he can focus on the situation. The person spread limply across him and Monty is Harper, who looks pale but lets out reassuring breathing noises.

“Fuck,” Nate is the first to find his voice, “We made it.”

There’s a chorus of weak chuckles as they’re all scrambled together, faces near the oxygen flow and limbs carelessly tangled, while they regain their purchase.

Echoes of Raven’s earlier words swirl through his mind: _this is not the hard part._

He doesn’t want to know exactly what the hard parts are going to be. Most of them he suspects are things they haven’t even taken into account yet. Five years are going to be a long time, but for now they’re all alive.

He shares an exhausted smile with Nate, who still maintains a firm grip on Jackson’s neck.

Beside him, Raven explains how the oxygen is going to need a while to disperse all across the ring and make their new habitat breathable, and so they stay, for now, right where they are. Nobody is talking much; not even Nate and Murphy are throwing around any flippant commentary or half-assed jokes.

Eventually though the reverent silence grows heavy and one by one they start to make some noise. Slowly they crawl away from each other, rising and scattering about to reacquaint themselves with their new surroundings. It doesn’t feel like less than a year, Jackson thinks, since he’s stood on these very floors.

As if on cue the entire group gravitates toward the huge screen window, from where they have a clear view down onto the blazing earth. Jackson sends a silent prayer to no deity in particular, that the bunker proves to provide safety for those who remain of the human race, beside the eight of them up here.

“What have we done?” Monty’s voice is barely more than a disbelieving whisper. None of them have an answer for him.

Jackson’s breath hitches when he feels the weight of Nate’s chin pressing down on his shoulder. It’s an unexpected but welcome gesture that he finds himself relaxing into easily.

He can feel more than one pair of eyes on him but doesn’t look up to meet anyone’s. Instead he keeps staring down at the fire raging across the planet. The sight is so overwhelming he can’t even cry.

The hours that follow are spent following more orders from Raven, doing inventory and assessment of the essentials. Monty and Raven are busy working out the engineering of the algae farm while Harper and Emori arrange their supplies.

He’s lost count of the amount of time he’s been awake by now – they all have – but he cautions everyone to get some rest. As a doctor and the oldest member of their group he feels it’s his responsibility. Raven and Bellamy are the only ones who don’t look appreciative of his insistent suggestion, but neither of them protests much, either.

What remains is the matter of room assignments. 

“Do you want to uh… bunk up together?”

He feels more nervous than he did when he offered to keep Nate company on his trip back to the island. It’s reassuring to see Nate’s nervous chuckle betraying small signs of uncertainty in return.

Nate’s smile is bright though when he nods and it throws Jackson’s heart off beat for a moment.

It doesn’t take long for them to arrange themselves around the small quarters; they haven’t exactly brought luggage or any personal items beyond what they had on them.

Nate unceremoniously shucks his pants and tugs his shirt off over his head, flinging both items off to the foot of the bed, his socks following suit. He peels the covers back and sits against the headboard, patting the space beside him with a small nod.

“Come here.”

Jackson can’t help his giddy grin as he proceeds to dress down to his underwear himself. The air is cold and he briefly considers putting the t-shirt back on, but the prospect of coming skin to skin with Nate sends a shiver through him that has little to do with the low room temperature.

His movements are calculated and a little stiff as he settles in next to Nate, close enough for their arms and legs to touch.

“Do you want to… talk?”

Nate shifts a little against him and Jackson mirrors the new pose until they’re facing each other.

“It’s been a long day,” Nate says slowly, “Can we just, I don’t know, let it all sink in?”

He licks his lips while his eyes flicker between Jackson’s eyes and mouth, and Jackson gets the cue. Without further ado he leans over for a tender kiss.

“Okay,” he breathes when they part.

They settle under the covers wordlessly. Nate has his head propped up on an elbow, casually looming over him as they continue to share sweet and idle kisses.

Jackson feels the physical and mental exhaustion of everything that happened seep into the way their roaming hands and smacking lips gradually slow their pace. With their foreheads pressed together they take a moment to catch their breaths.

Nate sighs deeply.

“I’m dead ass tired but I don’t think I can sleep,” he confesses quietly. Jackson agrees with a hum.

“Let’s try anyway, huh?” he suggests and feels Nate nod against his head.

“Tired of kissing me already?” he teases, even though his words are drawn out with fatigue.

“Never,” he murmurs against Nate’s soft, warm mouth and presses another chaste kiss to it.

They shuffle and twist around some more until they finally settle into a position that’s accommodating both of them. Nate’s face is buried in the side of his chest, while his arms are wound tightly around Jackson’s ribcage.

Eyes closed, Jackson inhales the already familiar scent of Nate’s skin and presses a kiss to the top of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Calling it breakfast would be a huge overstatement, but it’s their first shared meal and it does somehow feel significant for all of them to sit around the table together.

“Does anyone have some inspirational speech prepared?” Miller asks, just to get rid of the tension he carries from everything that happened to get them here. He’s feeling a little better though, now that he’s slept for a while.

Murphy has a sneer on his lips, ready to say something profane no doubt, when Bellamy shuts him down with a warning glare and starts to speak.

“We will survive this,” he says resolutely, “Whatever it takes. We owe it to Clarke and to everyone else we left behind down there.”

The space around them brims with glum silence.

“So,” Raven quips once the mood threatens to grow too heavy, “I’m stuck here with three couples, this is going to be fun.”

Miller presses his lips together, biting down the urge to explain they’re not a couple, technically. It’s too early for a label like that. But at the same time there’s a great comfort in Jackson’s presence by his side and he finds that he doesn’t really object to the term at all.

He chances a sideways glance and finds Jackson catching his eyes for a moment, a smirk ghosting across his lips – maybe he feels the same way.

“There’s always Bellamy,” Murphy suggests, oblivious to Miller’s little moment of revelation, “It’s not like that hasn’t happened before…” he trails off with a scornful grin and gets elbowed by Emori, who seems to pick up on the awkward shift in mood around the table.

Miller shakes his head.

“I think we need some basic rules,” he states, throwing Murphy a stern look, “for how we’re going to get along.”

“John doesn’t do rules,” Emori scoffs but the sparkle in her eyes betrays the fondness she feels for her boyfriend. Miller rolls his eyes.

Raven and Harper jump in at the same time and suddenly everybody is talking above each other, gesturing back and forth. Miller is in the middle of arguing his point when Jackson, with a loud bang, slams his fist down on the table.

“For God’s sake, how old are you guys?” His exasperated voice booms over the sudden silence. Miller winces. He’s never seen Jackson loose his cool, not even when he got shot did he raise his voice this much.

“And who are you to talk?” Murphy pushes his chair back abruptly and stands, prompting Miller to do the same, ready to advance at any moment. “Just days ago you were ready to kill Emori by testing your worthless nightblood on her and now you’re telling us to be nice to each other?”

“He was trying to save us!” Miller immediately jumps to his defense while Murphy rages on.

“Enough!” Bellamy yells and grabs at Murphy’s arm to yank him back, while Jackson puts an arm in front of Miller to stop him from lunging across the table.

“Both of you,” Bellamy says, shooting a warning glare at Miller. He seethes but lets Jackson’s hand on his shoulder guide him back down to sit in his chair.

Together, Bellamy and Emori manage to coax Murphy to sit back down as well.

“Jackson’s right,” Bellamy declares. “We’re in this together and we’ll have some unpleasant five years ahead of us if we can’t get past our animosities and find a way to be civil with each other.”

Across the table Murphy is drawing heavy breaths but keeps his mouth shut.

It’s Jackson who speaks up first.

“You don’t have to defend me,” his voice is calm and almost fragile. “There’s no excuse for what we did in that lab. For what I did.” He may be addressing Miller but his eyes are firmly set on Emori, who holds his gaze with an unreadable, stoic expression.

Eventually she nods.

“We were all desperate to survive,” she states calmly. Jackson seems to wait for her to break away from their intense eye contact first, and when she does he lowers his head in a gesture of shame. It hurts when he evades Miller’s comforting hand by pulling away but Miller vows to give him the space he needs to settle this.


	5. Chapter 5

Jackson’s spent a good amount of time pacing the hallway, trying to sort out his thoughts. The breakfast fiasco is still fresh on his mind, even though they’ve negotiated some ground rules and decided on a truce. He still feels the urge to apologize to Emori in a more personal setting.

He isn’t selfish enough to expect absolution – his deeds are unforgivable – but they’re going to spend a long time together in the small confines of this station and he needs her to understand how full of regret he is; and how serious about making amends.

Emori sits cross-legged on the floor; she has her eyes closed, looking utterly relaxed. Jackson swallows the lump in his throat and braces himself for the conversation he has planned in his head.

“Are you going to stare at me all day?”

He’s taken aback when Emori addresses him and clears his throat before he replies.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation,” he offers carefully.

Emori’s eyes open and one of her brows arches up.

“But you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson repeats, “I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment.”

To his relief Emori nods and gestures for him to sit. He does so, mirroring her pose, and then he’s at a loss for words again. All his carefully constructed openers are crumbling away when he thinks about how trite they must sound for her.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits eventually. “I feel like apologies won’t cut it but I need you know how sorry I am for what I was ready to do to you.” He pauses, taking in the flicker of hurt on Emori’s face.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, I can’t even forgive myself.”

Emori nods sternly but waits for him to continue. And then she lets him talk and talk until he’s out of words to say and they just sit there, silently, while the weight of the conversation sinks in.

“Thank you,” Emori finally says, her right hand absently rubbing along the deformations of the left, “Nobody’s ever apologized to me for deeming me expandable.”

Jackson swallows hard, the words twisting into his gut like a blunt knife. He initially wants to defend himself but feels like he has no right to do so.

“Nobody is expendable,” he offers quietly.

There really isn’t much to add. No words will magically obtain Emori’s trust – but they agree to make an effort to let time work in their favor and maybe heal those wounds one day. That has to be enough for Jackson right now.

Down the hall, in one of the old conference rooms, the boys are busy setting up a gym section – it’s where he finds Murphy, as expected, along with Nate and Bellamy.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, admiring Nate’s twitching muscles as he handles a makeshift barbell. He briefly considers asking if there’s anything for him to help with, but then decides to go after what he came for.

“Murphy, can I talk to you for a moment?”

He doesn’t miss the inquiring look Nate throws his way as he passes him.

Murphy grunts at him but nods toward the door, indicating for them to step outside for some privacy.

Although the wording is nearly the same, apologizing to Murphy seems somewhat harder than his conversation with Emori just now. Murphy’s arms are crossed in front of him defensively and his stare is unrelenting.

He listens though, without interruption. Jackson takes it as a sign of good will.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget what happened,” he bluntly states once Jackson has finished. “And don’t expect me to trust you.” He draws his eyebrows together as he speaks.

Jackson nods. He hasn’t expected anything more to come from this, he’s actually glad Murphy hasn’t jumped him mid-sentence.

“We’re all in the same boat here, I just don’t want to make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He actually feels a little better after that.


	6. Chapter 6

They've been back on the ring for six days now and reality is starting to settle in more heavily. With the initial exhilaration and relief ebbing away, Miller finds himself more and more prone to brooding. He’s a doer, a man of work, but now that the basics are covered there really isn’t much to _do_ up here.

He keeps himself busy with his daily workout routine and he’s grateful for every little task Raven assigns him with, even if she’s just asking him to hand her a screwdriver.

When he isn't hanging out - or making out - with Jackson, Miller spends a lot of time with Harper, goofing around and reminiscing on _old times_ , days long before the skybox. They’re both careful to avoid going into depth on sensitive topics, such as Jasper, Monroe or everyone else they’ve lost, everything they’ve been through since they were sent to the ground. Monty joins them whenever his face isn’t buried in the algae farm.

He loves these moments spent with his friends, but sometimes, when it’s just the three of them sitting in Monty and Harper’s room, Miller feels involuntarily carried back to Mount Weather. It’s hard for him to actually visualize the place or the people. He can recall every feeling but he can’t picture the surroundings anymore.

Not that it matters, the bunker's long blown up, obliterated, the debris melted away in the heat of the deathwave.

He hugs his arms around himself, fingers digging sharply into his elbow, while his eyes are burning from staring out the screen window, down into the blazing yellow and red of the planet still being eaten by praimfaya. His heart is thundering at the thought of his dad down there, hopefully safe inside the bunker for the next five years to come. He tries and fails to imagine the kind of world they will be facing after such a long span of time. The inferno seems relentless and he doubts there will be much to return to.

“Hey,” Jackson’s voice soothes him out of his thoughts and instinctively brings a small smile to his face.

“Hey,” he replies, his own voice scratchy and unprepared for speech.

“Are you crying?”

He isn’t. He hasn’t. He can’t even remember the last time he has. But when Jackson’s hand touches the back of his neck, light and undemanding, he can feel something stir inside of him. The sensation is growing in his stomach, presses up past his chest and into the space behind his eyes.

Jackson’s fingers tug at him gently and Jackson steps around him. It’s so easy to just fall forward and be caught in his embrace.

And suddenly he starts to sob.

His cheeks are burning with embarrassment and the remnants of tears. He hasn’t cried in front of anyone since his mom’s memorial service. With a harsh sniff he wipes at his eyes once more and tries to shake himself out of this unpleasant state of mind.

Jackson has loosened his grip on him but his hand remains firmly pressed to Miller’s back as he leads him to their room.

Thankfully, they only pass Bellamy on their way, but he picks up on Miller’s red rimmed eyes in an instant. He offers a smile and pat on the shoulder in passing, then nods to Jackson as if the two of them had some secret understanding. Miller just wants to get away.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jackson asks once he’s closed the door behind them, ensuring privacy.

Miller slumps down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, and shakes his head. There’s too much going on in his mind and he wouldn’t even know where to start.

The mattress dips as Jackson sits down beside him and takes his hand.

“Mind if I talk then?”

“Of course not.”

Jackson takes his time, fidgeting with Miller's fingers while he’s searching for words.

“A lot has happened, Nate.”

He nods numbly.

“We’re all still processing that.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“There’s no weakness or shame in crying.”

Jackson’s thumb is drawing small patterns on the back of his hand.

“I know.”

“I know we’re not technically that close yet, but you can talk to me about anything, okay?”

Miller looks up at that.

“What are you talking about? How are we not close?”

Jackson evades his eyes.

“I just mean, you know, we’re not… we just…”

As endearing as Jackson’s wobbly half sentences are, Miller can’t let him fumble around like that. He takes his free hand and uses it to guide Jackson’s face up to look at him.

“We’re _together,_ Jacks, aren’t we?”

Jackson looks at him with big eyes.

“I know it’s only been a week but I feel like we are pretty close.”

He smiles weakly as he waits for Jackson’s dumbfounded expression to shape into a smile of his own.

“So this is not just an end of the world, running out of options thing?”

Miller is almost offended.

“No, it's not,” he states firmly. And then a thought crosses his mind and he frowns. “Is it for you?”

Jackson shakes his head.

“No, it’s definitely not.”

They simultaneously lean forward until their foreheads touch.

There isn’t a lot of talking when they settle back onto the bed, not quite on their backs and not quite curled into each other. It’s much more comfortable than it probably looks. A lot of things are comfortable with Jackson, Miller thinks as he lets his eyes cast over his boyfriend. Calling him _boyfriend_ , for example. Or falling asleep with him at night, face buried into soft skin and the sound of Jackson’s breathing in his ears. And then, of course, there’s the sex. It’s only been a couple of times but they’re already so in tune, wanting and needing the same things, laughing and talking so easily in between.

It’s way too soon to voice his feelings but Miller _knows_ he’s already falling in love with the man.

“What?” Jackson asks, squirming under Miller’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Nothing,” he replies and moves in closer to Jackson’s lips, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Jackson leans into the kiss, his hand gently grasping Miller’s jaw as he deepens it, and Miller wishes they could just remain like this forever.

A sharp knock on the door interrupts them rudely and before they can reply the door swings open.

“Are you decent, kids? Dinner’s ready,” Raven announces with a gleeful grin.

Miller groans and falls back onto the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Jackson leans back against the cold glass of the screen window, from where he watches the others dribble and kick around the hallways. On one of the first inspection rounds Raven has found an old soccer ball and a manual pump. It hasn’t taken her long to get the group into the basics of soccer. Well, everyone but Monty and Jackson, who prefer to spend their time tending to the algae farm and talking about what Nate calls _geek stuff_.

It’s not like Jackson isn’t athletic at all, he has his ways to stay fit - running rounds on the ring, lifting weights, that sort of thing. But he’s never been into team sports and he’s not exactly good with balls. He remembers enough embarrassing occasions from gym class to gratefully decline Nate and Raven’s continuous invitations to join their practice.

That doesn’t however mean he can’t enjoy the view.

The guys have taken to removing their shirts before they play to prevent soaking them in sweat. But it’s not just Nate’s bare chest and defined abs that catch Jackson’s attention. He does enjoy the overall grace and technique everyone brings to the game. Raven, despite her knee brace, proves to be a very skillful player. Harper, with her razor sharp focus and determination, is learning every trick in the book. Nate makes up in speed and agility what he lacks in precision, while Bellamy and Murphy do their best to keep up with everyone’s stamina. Even Emori, who’s never in her life played soccer, is catching up fast and copying Raven’s tricks. After only a few weeks of training they already look quite impressive.

It’s a real joy to watch, Jackson decides with a delightful smile on his lips. Beside him, Monty doesn’t seem to be quite as invested. He has his nose buried in a tablet that has a lot of text and numbers on it. He does glance up every now and then to throw an appreciative look at Harper, waits until she meets his eyes to share a quick smile, before he goes back to his reading.

Jackson watches the exchange with an internal shake of his head and looks back at the game, just in time to catch Bellamy lunge and kick the ball with more force than direction, sending it barreling into Jackson’s direction.

His reflexes aren’t as rusty as he thinks and he manages to catch it right before it hits him smack in the face.

“That was close,” Nate chides and thumps Bellamy hard into the shoulder.

“Sorry,” Bellamy offers immediately, “You okay?”

Jackson nods and throws the ball back at him.

“You two should really think about joining us,” Nate says, for what is probably the twentieth time.

“You know I prefer the bleachers,” Jackson counters with a smirk.

Undeterred by his dismissal, Nate still saunters closer and reaches his hand out in invitation.

“Come on, boo, I know you got it,” he coaxes with a wink.

“Yeah, _boo_ ,” Murphy parrots before Emori flicks him in the head. He turns toward her, pretending to be offended and they scuffle around for a bit, forgetting all about soccer. Jackson smiles at their antics.

“When you’re done with your little love bird show how about we continue this?” Raven feigns irritation but Jackson can see a spark of something warm and adoring in her eyes.

Bellamy butts her in the head with the ball and laughs.

“Let’s go,” he shouts and drops the ball to the floor, holding it in place with his foot.

“You in?” His question is directed at Jackson and he is almost tempted to give in.

“Jackson, please?” Nate bats his lashes at him playfully and Jackson can’t help but smile like the lovestruck idiot he is.

“I’ll do it if he does,” he replies, nodding at Monty who is trying his best to make himself invisible behind his tablet. Nate, in one swift motion, plucks the device from him and puts it on a sideboard before he surprises them both by grasping their hands and pulling them up.

“Come on, nerds,” he grins.

As it turns out, soccer isn’t all that bad, even though Jackson is kind of bad it.


	8. Chapter 8

As the weeks go by their supplies are predictably dwindling. Monty is reporting progress on the algae farm and finally, one evening he’s proudly presenting the first batch of what he calls _Monty’s green soup_. It smells awful, Miller comments with his nose scrunched up and pushes the proffered cup back into Monty’s hand while Harper consoles her boyfriend’s disappointment with a soothing hand on his arm.

“Who’s brave enough to try it?” Monty challenges and Murphy leaps up in his chair.

“Can’t be much worse than those dry ass protein bars,” he mumbles and grabs the cup from Monty’s hand with bravado.

All eyes are on him as he gulps the entire contents of the cup down swiftly. He’s clearly fighting to keep a straight face, but once the aftertaste spreads across his tongue he contorts his face violently and shakes his head, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Monty, are you trying to kill us?”

Laughter erupts around the table.

“Anyone else? I have more,” Monty offers hopefully. Miller grits his teeth. If Murphy is brave enough, sure he can do it, too. He raises his hand.

Just as he’s about to take the new cup Monty has filled for him there’s a dull thud to his left and his head automatically whips around to its source: Murphy’s forehead has hit the table and his body is slumped uncomfortably in the chair.

Bellamy chides him for taking it too far but the way Jackson immediately jumps up to feel for Murphy’s pulse makes them all realize the situation is serious.

“John?” There’s a tinge of panic in Emori’s voice as she watches Jackson right Murphy up in his chair and hold his eyelids up to peer into his pupils.

“John!”

“Bellamy, help me get him on the floor. Nate, go get my med kit.” Jackson instructs and then everything seems to happen all at once.

Monty is staring off into the distance, unresponsive to Harper’s roaming hands across his back and arms. He doesn’t even look up when Miller approaches with a glass of water and kneels down in front of him.

“This isn’t your fault,” he offers and all but shoves the water into Monty’s cold, limp hands. He keeps a loose grip on the glass as he waits for Monty to register the object and fasten his hold on it.

“Drink,” Harper urges softly.

Miller wants to hug them both.

Monty’s eyes are fixed on the rippling surface of the water, and he mumbles on and on about scientific formulas and technical engineering and where he could have gone wrong.

Time seems to drag endlessly as they wait for news from med-bay and Miller hates that there is nothing he can do, except to be there for his friends and literally just hold their hands. It drives him crazy but he fights the urge to pace around the room in favor of calming down Monty.

Finally, Jackson comes out to inform them of Murphy’s condition. What Miller gathers is that he's gone into shock as a result of an unforeseen toxin that has developed in the algae, and now he’s in a coma, while his body fights to metabolize it.

His fears confirmed, Monty buried his face in his hands and bites back a sob while Harper continues to rub his shoulders.

Bellamy is hugging his arms around himself, his expression distant and lost. It reflects what Miller feels. He still thinks Murphy is an ass most of the time but he’s come to care about him a great deal and the thought of losing him like this feels like someone has punched a hollow in his gut.

“He's stable for now but I’m going to monitor him closely,” Jackson says in his best professional tone, but Miller can see the worry nagging at him in the way his eyes shimmer.

He steps forward and pulls Jackson into a hug.


	9. Chapter 9

Jackson prides himself in being a good doctor; he knows how to stay calm under pressure and he's quick to improvise when there's a shortage of medcation or supplies. His training on the Ark has prepared him well. It's the waiting that gets to him; when he has done his part and the fate of his patient is out of his hands. And still, he cannot shake the resoponsibility. Everyone on this station depends on him, looks at him with desperation in their eyes, with hope and faith and fear. He cannot let Murphy die.

If only he had the proper equipment to do a dialysis. He regrets not having foreseen this possibility. If only he had thought about it, considered all the probable side effects of self-grown algae. He's well aware that dwelling on regrets won’t help him now, and it certainly won’t make any of them feel better, but it's hard to push those thoughts away when there is nothing more to do at the moment, and no other patient or paperwork to take care of. He takes a deep breath. _Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three._ It's a method so deeply ingrained in him he usually doesn't even realize it's happening, except now he's doing it on purpose as he tries to stop his spiralling thoughts.

He looks over at Emori, who is hugging herself and keeps throwing wary glances at him while she’s circling Murphy's bed. She hasn’t left the room once and he knows there’s nothing he can say or do to make her. He's glad when Raven joins them and starts asking questions. Emori recites Murphy's status with impressive use of professional terms. She had been pacing around the room like a caged animal and it had made him so nervous he tried to engage her as best as he could in his treatment.

_“Would you hold this for me?” - “Could you hand me that?” - “Hold his arm up like this?”_

Emori gratefully followed all of his instructions and she must have been more attentive than he had given her credit for.

Still, despite his best efforts, Murphy remains unconscious. His body will have to fight the poison on its own and Jackson knows that with only the aid of the IV he’s hooked him up to this is going to take time. At least his vitals are stable, he notes again with a tired sigh.

He rubs at his eyes and stretches out his neck until he feels a satisfying pop between his cervical vertebrae. Raven and Emori are still quietly talking, and the lull of their voices must have lured him into sleep for a moment.

Up here the cycle of day and night means little, light and dark follow a different pattern as they’re orbiting Earth on its way around the sun. It’s something he used to be familiar with and Jackson hadn’t expected it to feel so strange now that he’s experienced the regular shifting of days and nights down on the ground. He’s never had a healthy sleep rhythm to begin with but after the past two days he feels the effects more than ever.

The girls are still whispering between them, Raven’s arm protectively wrapped around Emori’s shoulder and her forehead leaning against Emori’s temple. Despite their visible worry and exhaustion they look calm, almost peaceful. They’ve grown a lot closer over the past weeks, but now they seem almost inseparable. Jackson acknowledges his observation with a secret smile. Emori’s had a hard time opening up to any of them and he’s glad that Raven is the one who has gotten through to her.

He doesn’t want to interrupt the moment, but if he remains in his chair he’s just going to lose his battle against sleep again, and that would not be beneficial for his spine. Drawing on his last energy reserves he heaves himself up and stretches, before he quietly walks over to check Murphy’s vitals again.

The clock on the wall reads 2 am when Nate and Bellamy enter the room, loaded with mugs of instant coffee. The stuff tastes stale; he doesn’t want to think about how old the supplies they've gathered on the island really are, but he accepts it with a grateful smile. Nate's finger lingers on his for a moment before he makes his way over to Emori and hands her the second cup he’s holding. She takes it without a word.

“How is he?” Nate asks, casting a worried glance at the pale patient.

Jackson relates his status – which hasn’t changed since he last updated the group a few hours ago. 

“You should all get some rest,” Nate states and offers to stay with Murphy instead. “I’ll get you as soon as he twitches or something.”

Bellamy seconds the statement.

Jackson shakes his head. He’s the doctor, he should stay. They do have a point about Raven and Emori, though.

He walks over to them and gently places a hand on Emori’s shoulder before he leans down to her.

“They’re right, come on. I don't expect anything to happen for the next couple of hours.”

Emori sighs.

“I’ll go if you go.”

The coffee is already losing its effect and Jackson feels his resistance starting to fade.

“Alright,” he relents, “I’ll just give them a quick instruction.”

Emori slowly raises from her chair.

“I don’t think I can sleep,” she muses, even though her eyes look ready to drift shut any second.

Jackson squeezes her shoulder, hoping to reassure her.

“He’s going to be fine, I promise.”

Emori nods.

“Thank you,” she says with a weak twitch of her lips, before she lets Raven shoo her out of the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Bellamy keeps shaking his head as he looks at Murphy’s stretched out body but doesn’t say a single thing. Miller decides it’s up to him to break their silence with the first thing that comes to mind.

“This is really fucked up.”

Bellamy quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I almost drank that stuff too.”

The thought has been prevailing but he hasn’t voiced it yet, not even to Jackson.

“That could have been any of us,” Bellamy ventures thoughtfully.

“But it’s him.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I don’t know how I feel about that.”

He rubs a hand across his face. Sharp little grains of guilt are grinding at the insides of his stomach.

“I can't stop thinking what if that was me.”

Bellamy puts a hand on Miller’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Don’t beat yourself up over this. You can’t change what happened.”

Miller nods. He's well aware of that, but it doesn't make him feel any better.

“For what it’s worth I’m glad you’re okay,” Bellamy offers with a half smile.

And then they fall into silence again.

“You know, I was actually just starting to warm up to him,” Miller admits after a while.

“He’ll be thrilled to hear that when he wakes up,” Bellamy grins at him and Miller can’t help but chuckle at the thought.

“If-,”

“When,” Bellamy interrupts him resolutely, “You heard Jackson.”

“Besides,” Bellamy continues after a moment, “he’s a cockroach.”

Miller smirks at the inside joke.

“He’s gonna hate Jackson for the Foley, though.”

Bellamy shrugs.

“He’s survived worse.”

They share a pensive nod at the memories that inevitably resurface between them. Miller thinks back to the John Murphy from the drop ship. And apparently, so does Bellamy.

“I knew he was trouble the day we met,” he shakes his head once more at the memory, curls bouncing and veiling his eyes. For a second Miller thinks he sees them tearing up, which is something he wouldn’t know how to deal with, but then Bellamy cracks a smile.

“Remember when he got his ass kicked by O?”

“Which time?” Miller grins back.

Bellamy’s sister is another precarious topic. Whenever somebody is reckless enough to bring her up Bellamy gets into a _mood._ It's impossible to predict whether he'll get angry or just really quiet, but neither is a favorable option. Miller is cautious at first, but he takes it as a good sign that Bellamy's the one to bring her up. He's pleasantly surspised when the mood lightens and somehow they end up laughing as they reminisce on the days of their arrival on Earth, and how they’d acted like the rebellious teenage delinquents they really were.

“He’s come a long way,” Bellamy resumes pensively. “We sure haven’t been easy on him but he stuck it out and came out stronger.”

“Love has done him favors,” Miller muses.

“Yeah… and he’s not the only one.”

Miller frowns at the look Bellamy gives him.

“Jackson’s good for you.” He shrugs by way of explanation.

Miller can’t help but smile. Just thinking about Jackson makes him feel better about this whole mess they’ve gotten themselves into. He hadn’t been too sure about it at first, so soon after what happened with Bryan. He still thinks it might be too early to call it a success story, they've only been together for a few weeks, but deep down Miller is pretty sure that Jackson is _the one_. Not that he'd tell Bellamy that.

“I’m happy,” he offers instead, “well, given the circumstances and all…” he trails off, waving his hand around. “It feels right,” he concludes, another smile edging on his lips.

Bellamy nods approvingly. He still carries a tinge of sadness and Miller decides to just be frank about it.

“What about you?” He asks, carefully gauging Bellamy’s reaction – a deep sigh.

“Don’t even go there.”

“Clarke?” Miller is sure he’s treading on thin ice, but he has a hunch and he thinks it’s about time for Bellamy to unpack some of his baggage.

“Can we not talk about this?”

The evasive answer doesn’t come as a surprise. But despite his words it’s Bellamy who picks the thread up again a few minutes later.

“We never… whatever I felt for her… she’s gone.”

His dejection is palpable and makes Miller’s throat feel dry.

“I’m sorry man,” he offers flimsily, as if his sympathy could somehow change anything.

Bellamy’s eyes go distant for a moment but then he sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his nose.

“Let’s not dwell on the people we’ve lost and instead focus on who’s still here.”

“As in up here? Or down there,” He nods toward the door, indicating what’s below the screen windows, just outside the windowless room they’re in. 

Regardless of the stories they’ve just shared, Miller isn’t sure if it’s safe to bring up Octavia again. And as expected, Bellamy cuts him off as soon as he tries.

“I can’t. Every time I think about the bunker I…,” he trails off, shaking his head. “What if it doesn’t hold, what if we’re the last of the human race?”

Miller leans over to put a hand on Bellamy’s forearm.

“We can’t think that way,” he says sternly. “Look, I’m the last person to believe in miracles, but my dad’s down there. I just have to hold on to that thought, you know. Whatever happens down there is out of our hands, but if there’s one thing I know about your sister is that she’s determined as hell. She’s not going to give up on you and I think you should do her the same courtesy.”

He can see his words take effect in Bellamy’s head.

“You’re right,” he resolves as he leans forward and mirrors Miller’s gesture by putting his own hand on Miller’s forearm.

“And you said it yourself, the cockroach is gonna pull through. We’re not losing anyone else,” Miller says with a nod toward Murphy.

“You do listen to my pep talks after all?”

Bellamy’s spirit seems lifted, and Miller breathes a sigh of relief.

“Always.”


	11. Chapter 11

Everything is fuzzy when he wakes. His mouth is dry and his throat is sore. There's a tube in his arm and one in his - _what the actual fuck?_ In an instant Murphy's eyes are wide open, his head spinning as he tries to sit up.

“John? John! You're awake!”

That's Emori's voice.

“Murphy?” And there's Jackson, right by her side.

“Welcome back. I need you to stay calm, alright?” Jackson's hand is pushing him back down to the bed - not that he came very far. 

“Do you remember what happened?”

He blinks, trying to conjure up a memory. They're on the ring. They have been for a while. They were all just gathered around the table when... the taste of something gooey and salty... algae... he feels like he's going to be sick.

“John?”

He groans.

“Well, look who's too stubborn to die!” 

He supresses a wince at the volume of Raven's voice, and another when she leans down to hug him without warning.

“Welcome back, cockroach.”

He wants to say something sarcastic and smart but his mind is still busy processing the fact that he apparently almost died. And so, without thinking, he wraps his arms around Raven and hugs her to him. Well, he closes them around her. They actually still feel like they're made of rubber and he doesn't think he could lift as much as a bottle of water with these useless appandages. Jackson tells him it's normal after the trauma his body experienced, but he doesn't quite feel too confident about it.

Jackson also tells him to take it easy, which is kind of hard to do when there are seven people standing around the bed, staring at him while they're taking turns hugging him and asking how him how he feels.

Murphy's never been a hugger. 

“It's good to have you back, bro.” 

Bellamy squeezes his shoulder after he leans back from the embrace they just shared. _'Bro'_ does have a nice ring to it.

“I'm glad you're okay,” Miller chimes in and then leans over to pull him in with one arm. This is weird - in a validating, nice kind of way. 

He's still waiting for Miller's punchline by the time it's Harper's turn to throw her arms around him. She's holding on for a while, one of her hands patting his shoulder a few times.

Monty is the only one who hasn't said a single thing or moved in to touch him. He's standing awkwardly by the foot of the bed, like his usual geeky self. Murphy shouldn't be surprised by that. And still... after they retireved that generator together he thought their relationship had changed. Monty had no qualms about hugging him back then. Not that it should matter, it's just Monty...

He doesn't realize he's staring at the man in question with an expectant look on his face until he feels Emori's hand on his, nudging slightly. He quickly looks away.

“I'm sorry,” Monty offers and suddenly it occurs to Murphy what this is all about. 

“Oh, come on, Monty. You don't think I'm holding this against you, do you?” He puts on a cheerful tone - at least that's what he aims for. His throat's still dry and he may be just a little more emotional than he'd like to let on. The end result is his voice catching on his words - thankfully, he manages to cover his slip of composure with a cough.

Jackson places a hand on his shoulder and hands him a glass of water. All this fussing is making him itchy and he shrugs the doctor's hand off with a dialed down version of an annoyed glare.

Monty is stumbling over his own words, piecing together an apology and Murphy simply can't take any more of it.

“Forgive and forget, alright?” He cuts Monty off mid-sentence, “Besides, you're hardly the first person who ever tried to kill me.”

The look of shock on Monty's face makes him regret the ill-attempted joke as soon as the words are out.

“Don't flatter yourself, you're not that big a pain in the ass,” Raven boxes him lightly in the arm as she speaks, rousing a chorus of chuckles from everyone.

“I wouldn't go that far,” Miller protests with a grin.

He chances a glance at Monty and sees him crack a smile. A moment later Miller gives Monty a shove and he stumbles forward, almost falling across Murphy's lap. His arms flail awkwardly in the air, as if he's trying to deduce whether a hug would be welcomed. Murphy rolles his eyes and motions for him to lean in.

If that's a high pithched "aww" he hears beside him he simply chooses to irgnore it.

It's good to be back.


End file.
